Stories from a life being lived.
Fatherhood, family, faith, the occasional dumpster fire, and everything in between. Some days there's plenty to say. Other days, life gets in the way of writing about it.
Either way, pull up a chair. There's always another story.
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And Just Like That, November
Halloween passed, the clocks changed, and one final baseball game unexpectedly became two. Then the lights came on, nine innings were played, and just like that, David's first fall baseball season was over
Maybe Next Year
I had an entire Halloween lesson planned. History, food, stew, bread, and a fire. We're not doing it. Sometimes being Dad means recognizing that the plan isn't what your family needs.
A Bottle of Water and a Towel
Tuesday spent most of the day demanding answers, decisions, explanations, and time. Then the sun went down, the field lights came on, and for a couple of hours, all Dad needed to do was stand along the fence and watch.
When We Show Up
Sunday wasn't our best family day. Then I watched a group of boys fall four runs behind and refuse to quit on each other. Sometimes showing up matters most when things aren't going well.
The Half Facing the Fire
The forecast said upper 40s. The thermometer said 32. By the middle of the night, all six of us were gathered around one fire, warming whichever half happened to be facing it.
Shakedown
We broke camp at dawn. We survived. We were cold. Very cold. There are stories, but those can wait until I've slept somewhere with walls.
Because He Could
We never demanded straight As. He decided what he wanted, saw what he was capable of, and went after it. Yesterday, I got to sit in a gym and watch someone recognize him for it.
We All Needed to Get Outside
Two weeks of rain had all of us carrying around more pressure than we realized. The kids showed it one way. I showed it another. Sunday finally gave us somewhere to put it.
Apparently We Survived the Week That Wasn't There
The week I somehow forgot existed made it all the way to Friday. We're still intact, the world is still turning, and apparently I submitted an anthropology paper to the wrong professor.
Apparently This Week Exists After All
Apparently the week my brain deleted from October exists after all. And somewhere between final papers, next year's plans, and a green notebook, there's plenty happening right now.
The Week That Wasn't There
Somehow this entire week disappeared from my mental calendar. After a weekend of changed plans, hard conversations, canceled baseball, a tornado warning, and unexpected perspective, maybe I didn't need to live it early.
Hold On Until Friday
The roller coaster hasn't stopped yet, but I can see the station from here. A few conversations, a little baseball, camping gear, family, friends, and whatever else the weekend decides to throw at us.
Done and Dusted
Dinner was finished. The kitchen was clean. Catch had been played. The day was done and dusted. Then, at 7 p.m., I realized I'd forgotten one thing.
A Place for Everything
The detention had its place. The lie had its place. So did the consequence. But none of those things gets to occupy the space labeled David.
Make the Time
PTO started four hours late, the office came apart, and somehow the family pushed the project further in one day than I thought possible. Somewhere among all those cables was a reminder about making time for ourselves.
Waiting for the Furniture to Move
The boys are finding their rhythm, twelve spelling words became something worth celebrating, and ten minutes in the backyard turned into Dad and three sons playing catch. Now I just need the office furniture to start moving itself.
Let the Blur Be a Blur
The next three days will be fast, loud, and full. That's okay. After a weekend of family, faith, little league baseball, and watching number 12 take the field, I know what's waiting on the other side.
Two Pieces of Paper
One piece of paper said detention. The other was an invitation to Junior Beta Club. Same kid. Same day. Both true. Neither one the whole story.
Baseball Is Back, Baby
Dinner got a little burned, the family lesson went beautifully, and Dad woke up sick. But somewhere in between came the unmistakable sound of a baseball hitting a glove. Baseball is back, baby.
Probably Not Though
The phone is missing, Dad is averaging three hours of sleep, baseball starts Saturday, the chickens are laying, dinner is my responsibility, and the family zoo needs another habitat shuffle. Maybe this weekend I'll take a nap. Probably not though.
Halloween passed, the clocks changed, and one final baseball game unexpectedly became two. Then the lights came on, nine innings were played, and just like that, David's first fall baseball season was over